Page 7 of Resisting Temptation (Men of Honor 3)
He glares at me and makes no attempt to better it. When I realize he isn’t going to, I roll my eyes and give in. Carefully, I swing my leg back over to him, and gasp when his big, warm hand grabs my bare leg. Not from pain though, from something else, something I’ve never felt before. His eyes snap back to mine, and the way he looks at me I’d swear he knows what I’m thinking. But there is no way he can, right?
Looking away, he clears his throat and mumbles an apology before pulling my boot off. I let out a relieved breath; thankful he thinks my reaction to him was from pain, which I immediately feel guilty for.
“It’s okay,” I reply quietly, not wanting him to feel bad for thinking he hurt me. Although he doesn’t look like the kind of guy to feel bad about causing someone pain.
While he examines my ankle, I let myself really look him over. My initial assessment was right, he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen, even with the whole ‘I’m going to kill you’ vibe he has going on. His messy, dark hair is a little longer than I would expect a soldier to have. It complements his warm skin tone and dark hazel eyes that are framed with thick, black lashes. If I had to guess, I’d say he has some Mexican heritage in him.
The white muscle tank he’s wearing reveals a lean, muscular body and displays a tribal pattern of black ink that is woven up naturally bronzed skin and cut muscles. The design goes all the way up past his shoulder and ends at his collarbone. Everything about him is darkly beautiful and reminds me of a fallen angel…
My eyes snap to his as he clears his throat, and my face flames when I realize he just watched me openly ogle him. Geez, Faith, get a grip.
Instead of calling me out and embarrassing me further, he gently probes my ankle with his thumbs and asks, “Does that hurt?”
I shake my head, worried what my voice will sound like if I speak at the moment. When he releases my foot, I instantly miss the warm connection from his rough hand. Man I am pathetic.
“I don’t think it’s sprained but it is a little swollen, so it might be tender for a while.”
Clearing my throat, I look down at my boots and nod. “Yes, I’m sure it’s fine. Thank you. I’m just going to sit here and move it around for a few minutes before trying to walk again.”
When he doesn’t say anything, or make any move to leave, I glance up at him to see his hard gaze trained on my chest. His demeanor, for some reason, seems colder, and when I look down I realize he’s staring at my massive, sterling silver cross pendant. I clutch the heavy metal nervously and wonder why he’s glaring at it. His eyes finally come back to mine, and for a brief second I’m sure I see pain resonate on his face. But it was so quick that I begin to think I imagined it.
Things between us become more awkward. “Well, thank you for looking at my ankle. Take care.” I wince at my pathetic attempt of trying to part ways with him and start to feel guilty, hoping I didn’t hurt his feelings.
He grunts and seems not to be offended in the least. “Nice try, Red. I’m not leaving you here by yourself after what just happened with that asshole.” He crosses his legs, getting more comfortable, clearly not going anywhere.
Something warms in my chest at him calling me Red. Considering the way he has acted toward me, I’m wondering why he cares what happens to me. He sits down across from me and gets more comfortable. “You don’t have to do that. I’m sure he’s not coming back. He was only here for Aadil.” My forgotten anxiety comes back at the mention of Aadil. Please, God, let him be okay.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, breaking me from my thoughts. I look at him inquisitively. “In Iraq, I mean.”
“I’m on a mission trip with my church.” Again something flashes in his eyes, but before I can even question it, it’s gone. What is that all about? “What about you?” I ask, trying to break the awkward silence once again. “Was Aadil’s father right, are you a soldier?”
“Something like that,” he replies, not offering anything more.
“How did you know we were in trouble?”
“I was out for a walk.”
“Is your base close by here?”
He responds with a single nod.
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a real chatterbox?” He doesn’t smile like I hoped he would. Oookay…
It’s a good thing the guy is so good looking, because he doesn’t have much going for him in the personality department. I know I should be offended or even scared from the vibes he throws off, but instead I’m finding myself intrigued with this very sexy, very dark soldier.
“What is your name?” I ask, wanting to find out as much about him as I can before he leaves. He doesn’t offer an answer. “Oh come on. It’s only like what – two words? It’s the perfect question for your vocabulary.” I giggle at my sarcasm.
He watches me unamused, not finding me as funny as I find myself. I start to think he’s not going to answer but then he does. “Cade Walker.”
Figures, even his name is sexy. I study him a minute before nodding. “It suits you.” Instead of saying ‘thank you’ he continues to stare at me. Seriously, what is it with this guy? “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Cade. My name is Faith Williams.”
He catches me off guard when he barrels out a laugh, but there’s nothing funny-sounding about it. “Of course it fucking is.”
I flinch from his brash words and harsh tone. Instead of being insulted, I try to figure out what it is about my name that bothers him. Then I think about his reaction to my necklace and my mission trip. “You have something against God, Cade Walker?”
